The Magic of Halloween - Memories and Adventures
It is said that smells and music/sounds have the power to trigger long lost memories. I was walking through the woods near our house a few days ago and suddenly there was that familiar smell of decomposing leaves. The cool fall air, leaves slowly drifting downward and that smell got me thinking about the anticipation of Halloween and the coming winter.
In someways the planning for that evening was just as much fun as the actual event. What were you going to be, who would you go out with, where would you go and what would you get.
During the day, school was filled with the anticipation of the evening ahead as the final details fell into place. Afternoon recess was electric and with the final bell, we bolted from the school heading to the bike racks, grabbed our bikes decked out with ape hangers and raced down Mississauga Street to our respective homes.
Once you met up with your friends as dusk gave way to night, our neighbourhood seemed transformed into something different and exciting. In those days people didn't decorate their homes as they do today, just a carved pumpkin on the step. But somehow with the lights, shadows and falling leaves everything seemed different, exotic and new.
There was also mischief afoot, who brought the soap, some toilet paper and maybe some "Cold Water All" for the Cities Service Fountain. This was more about fun than vandalism, as the prime objective was still to gather as much candy as possible. The prized booty of the night were candy apples and popcorn balls. Word quickly spread which homes where giving out these prized treats.
Every Halloween the rumour of silver dollars being given out by the Dukes circulated among my friends. The Dukes were by far the richest family on the west side of the Bronte Creek; given the size of their home and the fact they owned Duke Lawn Equipment. I can't tell you how many times we trekked to their house on the far west end of town only to be disappointed.
No Halloween would be complete without crossing through the Bronte Cemetery at the foot of West Street. Its isolated location, few homes, lack of street lights and towering old oak trees added to the scary landscape. Around grade 8, I remember a portion of the embankment overlooking the lake giving way, exposing a number of the graves. That event added to the sense of fear you experienced that following Halloween.
After what seemed hours of running throughout our neighbourhood, it was time to return home. In all likelihood, we were only out 2 or 3 hours. When you arrived home, you quickly spilled the contents of your pillow case on the floor, sorted through your evenings booty, separating it into three piles, the really good stuff, ok stuff and junk, either to be thrown out or consumed only as a last resort.
The next morning when you met up with your friends for the walk to school, the magical feel of the neighbourhood seemed to have disappeared, with the only reminders of the night before being a pumpkin on a doorstep or a car window which had been soaped. At school before the first bell we retold the stories and adventures from the night before and started the process of trading our prized returns hoping to secure some type of candy we had not received.
By afternoon recess, it had become just another boring school day, the bike ride home was a little slower, with the conversation shifting to the possibility of a road hockey game on the weekend and wondering when we would get the first snow.
As I rode my biked down Cudmore Road, in the grey of the evening, the remaining leaves were drifting down, I felt the fall chill running through my jacket and there was that wonderful smell of burning leaves in the air.
In someways the planning for that evening was just as much fun as the actual event. What were you going to be, who would you go out with, where would you go and what would you get.
Today, there is far more choice and inventiveness. In many instances those costume choices of our youth have not only faded away, but have been lost to the new world of political correctness.
During the day, school was filled with the anticipation of the evening ahead as the final details fell into place. Afternoon recess was electric and with the final bell, we bolted from the school heading to the bike racks, grabbed our bikes decked out with ape hangers and raced down Mississauga Street to our respective homes.
Once you met up with your friends as dusk gave way to night, our neighbourhood seemed transformed into something different and exciting. In those days people didn't decorate their homes as they do today, just a carved pumpkin on the step. But somehow with the lights, shadows and falling leaves everything seemed different, exotic and new.
There was also mischief afoot, who brought the soap, some toilet paper and maybe some "Cold Water All" for the Cities Service Fountain. This was more about fun than vandalism, as the prime objective was still to gather as much candy as possible. The prized booty of the night were candy apples and popcorn balls. Word quickly spread which homes where giving out these prized treats.
Every Halloween the rumour of silver dollars being given out by the Dukes circulated among my friends. The Dukes were by far the richest family on the west side of the Bronte Creek; given the size of their home and the fact they owned Duke Lawn Equipment. I can't tell you how many times we trekked to their house on the far west end of town only to be disappointed.
No Halloween would be complete without crossing through the Bronte Cemetery at the foot of West Street. Its isolated location, few homes, lack of street lights and towering old oak trees added to the scary landscape. Around grade 8, I remember a portion of the embankment overlooking the lake giving way, exposing a number of the graves. That event added to the sense of fear you experienced that following Halloween.
After what seemed hours of running throughout our neighbourhood, it was time to return home. In all likelihood, we were only out 2 or 3 hours. When you arrived home, you quickly spilled the contents of your pillow case on the floor, sorted through your evenings booty, separating it into three piles, the really good stuff, ok stuff and junk, either to be thrown out or consumed only as a last resort.
The next morning when you met up with your friends for the walk to school, the magical feel of the neighbourhood seemed to have disappeared, with the only reminders of the night before being a pumpkin on a doorstep or a car window which had been soaped. At school before the first bell we retold the stories and adventures from the night before and started the process of trading our prized returns hoping to secure some type of candy we had not received.
By afternoon recess, it had become just another boring school day, the bike ride home was a little slower, with the conversation shifting to the possibility of a road hockey game on the weekend and wondering when we would get the first snow.
As I rode my biked down Cudmore Road, in the grey of the evening, the remaining leaves were drifting down, I felt the fall chill running through my jacket and there was that wonderful smell of burning leaves in the air.
Great memory you have.After reading,ya we did that.Long way to Dukes but got Craddocks and Doreties
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